Always a Little Different
by EdenTheIntrovert
Summary: This is the story of Sherlock Holmes and her flatmate John Watson. Sherlock is turned into a woman when a chemical bomb explodes. After the fall. Rated for cursing, female issues, life problems and more to come. No pairing... Obviously Fem!lock!
1. Chapter 1

**N/A: This fic is unbetad and has not been Brit picked. I am very sorry for any errors. Grammar is not something I am too fond of. I am not a chemical engineering, so sorry for the lack of knowledge when it comes to the whole bomb thing! **

**Ok, I will stop talking and let you read! **

**Enjoy!**

**-TheIntovert**

Sherlock knew he couldn't disable this bomb.

He had never seen anything like it, and he had worked with many kinds of bombs. Made quite a few, in fact.

So when he arrived home from taking John to the airport to find this strange bundle of wires and glass jars full of liquid, chemical obviously, laying in the middle of the living room, he had become slightly... overjoyed. Of course the great consulting detective would never admit that.

He had been so long without a good challenge. His last true challenge had ended rather messy... But that was something he chose not to think about. He had caused those he cared for so much pain. John and Mrs. Hudson had-

'Mrs. Hudson!' The great consulting detective thought in a sudden panic. He soon remembered that the dear woman was out on holiday, seeing her ill sister.

'Back to the bomb!' The man reminded himself.

Sherlock quickly set to work inspecting the odd bomb. It appeared to run simply on four double D batterys. The device had six jars filled with different types of chemicals, connected to each other with small steal tubes. It had a sort of timer with a small count down screen attached to it. Wires ran off of the batterys to the timer and the jars lids. The best Sherlock could deduce was that when the time was out an electric charge would be sent from the batterys to the jars, which would cause the chemicals to mix with one another.

'But, how to defuse it?' Sherlock thought. There was no off switch, of course. All the wires where the same colour. And he only had one minute and forty-five seconds before it went off.

Sherlock had yet to touch the bomb and quickly reached out to run a pale finger over one of the wires. He was hardly touching it when a strong electric charge zapped him.

He hissed in pain at the strong charge and cursed under his breath.

"So no touching... That makes things a bit harder." He said with a note of glee in his voice. Sherlock jumped to his feet and began gathering seemingly random objects from around the flat. He ran back to the bomb and checked the timer. He still had one minute and twenty-three seconds. Sherlock sat cross legged on the floor and grabbed a few chemicals in oddly shaped beakers. He began to mix the liquids together at a speed which a normal human would have found impossible.

He now had one minute left.

He would pour one of his mixtures on a jar and then would start on another. He was hoping to cause the wires connected to the jars to erode and lose there electric charge.

After about four failed attempts at that he pulled on a pair of welding gloves and picked up pair of needle nose pliers. Sherlock began to pull at one of the wires connected to the timer, but soon gave up when his arm went numb from the shock.

Sherlock checked the timer and was horrified to find he only had thirteen seconds left. He began to pour all the chemicals he had on the bomb.

No reaction.

Wait, there was a reaction. Sherlock could just make out in the dim lighting of his flat, small wisps of smock coming off the jars.

Sherlock looked at the timer to find he had nine, eight, seven, only so many seconds left. Sherlock didn't want to watch the timer count down, so he threw one of John's jumpers over the bomb.

He couldn't think of any thing to do. 'Who put this bomb here?' He questioned for the first time. He looked around his flat hoping for a clue. He could just barely see in the rug a set of foot prints that he did not recognize. Judging by the size of the shoe it was a tall male that had left the bomb. He obviously had back pain from the way his heel had dug into the fabric of the rug.

Sherlock took one last look at the flat, his home. He could only assume that he was going to die. He didn't have time to run from the flat. To call anyone for help. He could not believe he was dying in such a boring way. Not even a good fight to go down with. Just a stupid bomb. He was glad that John and Mrs. Hudson where gone. He could deal with dying himself, but they couldn't die.

Sherlock knew that he had three seconds left.

Two seconds.

One second.

Everything slowed down. Sherlock could see the dust in the air. Could hear his own heartbeat. He didn't see his life flash before his eyes. He didn't think of everything he wished he had done.

He simply sat on the ground and watched as John's jumper lit on fire. He simply sat and felt the force and heat as the bomb exploded.

He simply fell into the deep and dark whole of nothing, as the flames engulfed him.

**N/A: What did you think?! Please review! If you want to tell me I suck at writing and need to stop and delete this story, tell me so! I want feed back! Even if it's to tells me to stop this writing nonsense! Also, I would love ideas on what John and Sherlock could do in some fluff chaptes. PM me or just review!**

**Anyways...**

**I love you all! Review's make my world go round!**

**Love,**

**-TheIntrovert**


	2. Chapter 2

**N/A: I was so pleased to get TWO reviews in less then one day! And THREE follows!**

**In the first chapter I forgot the disclaimer! :O**

**I own nothing... **

**Like, I am so poor it's not even funny... **

**Sherlock is not mine...**

**John is not mine...**

**Mycroft is not mine...**

**221b Baker Street is not mine...**

**This plot idea thing is mine! **

**And if any of you try and steal it...**

**I will burn you.**

**I will burn the heart out of you!**

**You all are wonderful! The more reviews I get the faster I update! (That was me telling you to review)**

**I love you all,**

**-TheIntrovert**

Chapter Two:

Pain.

Burning. Everywhere flames.

He couldn't see. He couldn't hear.

But, Sherlock could feel.

He felt as if every molecule of his being was lit on fire. He felt as if his skin was slowly being pulled from his muscles and his muscles from his bones. He felt as if each of his bones where being broken at the same time. Over and over again. It felt as if his organs where all shutting down. As if all the blood in his body had been drained out.

He couldn't breath.

It felt as if he was suffocating.

It felt as if he where being crushed and pulled apart all at once.

The great Sherlock Holmes was no stranger to pain, but he had never felt anything like this. He couldn't form a thought. All his genesis mind could think of was the pain. He felt flames inside each of his veins. He could feel his heart beating like a racehorses in his chest. Going faster and faster till it was about to shatter.

It soon did.

He didn't know how long he stayed in the pain. There was no time in the pain, no way to measure minutes passing.

Sherlock's mind focused enough for him to realize that his heart was going too fast. That it would soon give out. He felt as his heart shuttered and as it tried to keep beating.

He was aware when he slipped into a dreamless, and empty sleep.

JOHN POV.

When John received the phone call from Lestrard saying that there had been an explosion at his flat, he had run from his terminal and jumped in a cab. Harry could deal with her own problems for once.

Lestrard had said that it was unclear if Sherlock was in the flat at the time of the explosion. But John knew his friend would have gone straight home to mop around in self piety, because of his loneliness.

The twenty minute car ride passed in a worrisome blur for the doctor. As soon as the cab was in sight of 221b John shoved some money into the cabbies hand and began to run the half block to his flat door.

Debris floated through the air. Police sirens rang out all down Baker Street. People stood behind yellow tape, trying to get a good look at the wreckage.

Just before John could make the first step up to his front door, he was grabbed by someone. He began to put up a fight, but stopped when he heard Lestrards voice.

"Let go of him, Smithe. He lives here!" Lestrard said to the officer. The officer quickly let go of the doctor. "John, they have- they have found his body."

John's breath hitched.

Body.

Body. That meant he was-

'No. No. He is not dead. He can't be dead. I just got him back!' The doctor thought in denial.

"Is he-" John took a deep breath. "Is he dead?"

"We aren't sure, just yet. He is covered in rubble. We are almost done getting him uncovered." Lestrard explained. "John, there are extremely high levels of radiation coming off Sherlock."

"What?" John asked unsure what the DI was trying to say.

"There is no way he could have survived such high radiation." Just as Lestrard spoke those words a larger black car pulled up to the yellow tape, parting the hordes of people. Mycroft Holmes stepped out of the car and ran, yes ran, over to John and Lestrard.

"How is he?" Mycroft asked in a winded voice. At that moment a stretcher began to roll it's way down the flats stairs.

"Out of the way!" Called a EMT from within his hazmat suit.

"You all are going to need chemical baths." A second EMT said, to the people outside on Baker Street.

The three men could just make out the great Sherlock Holmes from underneath the mess of tubes and other things keeping him alive.

Sherlock had survived the bombing. He was covered in burns and cuts. He looked incredibly thin and frail in the stretcher.

"Where are we headed?" The first EMT asked the other, as they loaded Sherlock into the ambulance.

"I have a private hospital set up for him." Mycroft said. The two EMTs look at each other and then nodded.

"Alright, just tell us where to go." The second said.

Sherlock was going to be taken care of. Mycroft no doubt had the best doctors on the planet ready to take care of his brother.

He was going to be fine.

Sherlock was going to be fine.

**N/A: And that was chapter two! I hope you enjoyed it! Please review! I really love to hear your thoughts on what write!**

**Umm... Ok, thanks for reading! Please, please, please review!**

**I love you all,**

**-TheIntrovert**


	3. Chapter 3

**N/A: Chapter Three already? I must really love my reviewers, Two favorites, and THREE followers! I have three followers! Thank you iligar516, WhoLocked42, and RainyDays-and-DayDreams for following this story! And thank you Nekiare and Carissabanana for favoriting this! I can't begin to explain how happy you all make me! Sorry that this is such a short chapter...**

**I love you all,**

**-TheIntrovert**

Chapter Three:

One Month Later:

Sherlock was not "fine".

Alive yes. But not fine.

Sherlock simply appeared to be sleeping. Multiple brain scans showed that he was under great stress and anxiety. The doctors Mycroft had hired kept Sherlock in an induced coma. They had told John and Mycroft that this was so that his brain could heal itself, and rest.

The doctors couldn't find any signs of radiation coming off Sherlock. It was as if his body had absorbed the radiation. They guessed that something had soaked up most of the deadly radiation before the bomb exploded.

John didn't notice any differences in his flatmate for the first few days. Then, slowly, John began to see small changes in Sherlock. His lips began to become more round, his limbs less muscular, his facial features less sharp and more feminine. His whole body began to become more feminine. _Every_ part of him, the doctors informed Mycroft and John.

So that was why John sat in the chair next to Sherlock's hospital bed. The doctors told John and Mycroft that Sherlock's brain had healed and it was time for her to awake.

The doctors had asked that someone Sherlock was comfortable with and trusted be there when she woke up. They wanted Sherlock to feel safe and not be stressed at all. That was why Mycroft hid behind a one-way mirror, watching as the doctors began to wake Sherlock from her induced sleep.

The great consulting detective whimpered as she woke from her sleep. The day before her respirator had been removed, so that Sherlock could breath on her own. Also, they didn't want to upset Sherlock more then was necessary.

"Sherlock?" John asked in a timid voice.

"Ugh..." Sherlock responded sounding horse. "John."

"I'm here, Sherlock. I'm here." John reassured his friend as he grabbed onto her hand lightly. Sherlock slowly opened her eyes.

"John. What the hell happened?" Sherlock asked suddenly completely alert. "Why am- I'm not dead!"

John laughed without humor at his flatmates observation. "Wonderful deduction, Sherlock."

"John, what's wrong? You look- what's wrong?" Sherlock looked at her friend with intense blue eyes. "Where are we?"

"We are in a... hospital, Mycroft set up for you." John said.

"What is wrong, John?"

John didn't respond, but simply pointed to the one-way mirror window, which Mycroft hid behind. Sherlock turned and looked at his/her reflection. Sherlock then gasped loudly.

"Wha- I am- That's not-... John!" Sherlock's voice had lost it's horse note. Sherlock truly sounded female. "John! That's a woman!" Sherlock began to try and get up from the hospital bed. The heart monitor began to beet wildly.

Two doctors quickly ran into the room and tried to calm down Sherlock. Words didn't work, so they tried to restrain the great detect. Once Sherlock was restrained the doctors injected a sedative into the IV.

Just before Sherlock slipped into unconscious two word escaped from the detectives lips.

"A woman."

**N/A: Chapter Three! Wow!**

**He's a woman!**

**Hahaha!**

**I have dragged this out!**

**I will not be updating again for about a week... I am sorry, but I have a life and lots of work to do...**

**REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW.**

**Please... I love to hear your thoughts on what I write! And if you want to see something in this fic, just tell me!**

**Would you rather I give you short chapters sooner or long chapters that take more time to update? Please tell me in your review! (Me telling you to review... again... please review... just, please...)**

**As always... I LOVE YOU All!**

**-TheIntrovert**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: So sorry for the long wait! But here it is! I made a thing! Read my thing! Sorry for any errors:/**

**I don't own Sherlock, BBC does. **

**I love you all!**

**-TheIntrovert**

Chapter Four:

Sherlock was not unconscious for long. Years of surviving on harsh drugs alone had made her body able to quickly overcome the sedative.

Sherlock slowly opened her eyes to see that no doctors, or Johns, where in her recovery room. Sherlock looked around the room to find that it was quite ordinary. Everything was a bland white. The walls, the door leading to a bathroom, the floor, the bed, everything was made to keep a patient in a calmly subdued frame of mind.

The decorative mood was lost on Sherlock. She did not find the colours calming, she found them infuriatingly boring.

Sherlock began to rise from the bed when she felt a pain in her wrists. Looking down she found that both her wrists and her ankles where restrained by velcro straps. She struggled with the straps for a few seconds, then signed heavily. She knew what she must do to escape. It was inevitable.

Sherlock took two seconds to breath, then she quickly popped her left thumb out of socket, using the strap. A sickening crack was heard, followed by a hiss of pain from the detective.

She slowly slid her left hand out of the restraint and undid the strap on her right hand. She then used her right hand to undo the restraints on her ankles.

When the detective tried to bring her knees up to her chest to begin to pop her thumb back into socket, something stopped her. She was unable to curl into the tight ball she desired, because The Great Sherlock Holmes had two masses of fat blocking her knees path.

"Breasts..." Sherlock whispered with venom in her sing song voice. It seemed all the more real now to Sherlock. No denying that it had all been a dream. She was truly a woman.

Abandoning her idea of rolling in to a comfy ball, Sherlock crossed her legs underneath herself.

Sherlock grasped her dislocated left thumb in her right hand firmly. She drew in a breath. Then let it out. Then drew in another and held it.

'One, two, three.' She counted in her head.

Sherlock pulled the thumb out to the side and then pushed it harshly into place. She couldn't help but whimper slightly at the pain.

Jumping from the bed Sherlock began to look more closely at her surroundings. Everything was perfectly clean.

'Too clean...' Sherlock thought as she ran a pale elegant finger over the bedside table. She then smelled her finger. 'Just as I suspected. A hint of lilacs, mostly rosemary. Obviously _Frisch_, the German wood cleaner. Mycrofts current maid is German. Bit of a prude, the old which. Of course Mycroft would be keeping me in a lair of his ... But, which one?'

Just as that thought crossed her mind the door leading out of the recovery room opened, and John stepped in.

"Sherlock! You're up!" John proclaimed, surprised. "I just came in to check on you. Sherlock, is your hand ok? It looks like you hurt yourself."

Sherlock looked down at her hand to find that she was holding it cradled to her chest.

"Here let me look at it." John said as he advanced towards the detective, hands outstretched.

Realizing that he planned to touch her, Sherlock's instincts kicked in. She quickly backed away from John, squaring her thin shoulders. Her eyes where wide with fright.

"Sherlock. It's fine. You're fine. I'm not going to hurt you." Some small sane part of Sherlock's mind told her to trust his words. This was John. He would never hurt her. But, years of abuse, both physical and verbal, made Sherlock continue to retreat, till her back was against the wall.

"Sherlock, calm down... you're ok. Don't worry. Just let me see your hand." John requested, still walking towards the panicking detective. Sherlock responded to John's words with a hiss. "Did you just _hiss_ at me?"

"Get back John. I am in no mood for your company." Sherlock spat sharply. John kept on walking towards her.

Sherlock let out a fierce hiss and launched herself at John. She grabbed him by both his shoulders and pushed him to the ground, she kicked John in the stomach as they fell.

John and Sherlock landed on the ground with a loud thud. John, due to the fact that Sherlock fell on top of him, had the breath knocked out of him and lay gasping on the ground.

Sherlock jumped up from on top of John and ran over to the door he entered from. It was locked and you had to enter a code for it to open.

"Let me out! Let me out! Please!" Sherlock was screaming at the top of her lungs and banged on the door. "Mycroft! Help me!" Memories of a tragic childhood filled Sherlock's mind. Her mind palace walls where shaking with the force of her panic.

"Sherlock, please calm down. Sherlock no one is going to hurt you..." John's words where not heard by the detective. John slowly rose from the ground and walked over to Sherlock. Drawing a deep breath the doctor wrapped his arms around her thin waist. Sherlock eminently began to fight John, scratching at his arms and kicking his legs

"Let go! Let me go! Stop it! I'm sorry! Stop it! Let go of me!" Sherlock was thrashing in John's arms. She was growling and hissing. Sherlock was tiring out quickly, your body going through such a drastic change could do that to you, and soon stopped fighting the army doctor.

"You're safe, Sherlock. Don't worry. You're safe." John gasped, sinking to the ground with Sherlock still in his arms. As John sat on the floor, pulling the detective into his lap, she curled into a tight ball and silently sobbed into John's shirt. "Hush, you're ok. You're ok. I'm here." John rapped his arms around his shaking friend. Looking down he saw that the detective had managed to draw blood from the his hands.

"I don't want to be here, John. Take me home. I want to go home." Sherlock gasped out.

"Soon, Sherlock. Soon." John promised as he rubbed circles in her back. John didn't have the heart to tell Sherlock that 221b was quite different then before the bomb. Most of their possession had been destroyed in the explosion. Mycroft had been a huge help in rebuilding Baker Street. To anyone, other then Sherlock Holmes, 221b would appear completely the same.

"Soon..." Sherlock echoed.

**A/N: YAY! Chapter Four! Longest one yet! Sorry for the long wait! That little freak out was for you RainyDays-and-DayDreams!**

**As always REVIEW! Please! I love to hear from you guys! I just love to hear from you all! So much! Review on every chapter! Review your ideas for what you think I should write! Review how your day has been! I want to know that you people are real!**

**Ok... end of rant... hehehe...**

**I love you all!**

**-TheIntrovert**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: I am so sorry for taking so long! Please forgive me! I made this chapter a little longer then usual! **

**Ok, here it is!**

**I love you all!**

**-TheIntrovert**

Chapter Five:

Sherlock ran down the street at full speed, hospital gown flowing out behind her.

Just a little farther.

A little farther up the road was an alley way that led to a wonderful hiding spot. Sherlock just had to make it.

She didn't think she could. Her limbs where weak and fatigued. Her movements ungraceful and slow. The "Change"(as Sherlock had taken to calling it) had made her body tire easily.

Sherlock's instincts kicked in just as a man in a black suit tackled her. He tried to wrap his arms around her but she quickly grabbed his wrist and twisted it hard. It dislocated easily. He fell to the ground, gasping in pain, but still managed to grasp one of Sherlock's ankles. She had been mid step and fell to the ground flat on her face.

"Let go! Let go! Let go!" Sherlock demanded. "Do you know what I could do to you? Do you know what I will do to you?" Sherlock tried to sound intimidating, but it was a rather hard thing to do when you are an incredibly thin female in a hospital gown.

"Sorry, Holmes. I am more afraid of your brother then you." As the man said this Mycroft stepped out of the sleek black car that had pulled up next to them.

"Really Sherlock? Again?" Mycroft asked in a irate tone.

One Week After Failed Escape:

Sherlock was beyond bored.

Her mind was stagnant. The juices where meant to flow, not to sit sill, boiling in her head.

"I. Want. Out." Sherlock fumed.

"All you have to do is eat one good sized meal then you are free to go." Smiled the plump grandmotherly nurse as she placed a tray of food in front of the detective.

Sherlock had been in Mycrofts hospital for weeks. She was ready to try another escape attempt.

"I don't want to eat." Sherlock gritted out between clenched teeth. She looked at the things in front of her with disdain. Just one meal. That was all it would take to gain her freedom.

Sherlock lifted a crisp to her mouth and bit off a piece. It tasted like salt.

'Dull.' Sherlock thought as she stuffed many different foods into her mouth, only pausing to breath. She soon had half the plate cleared.

"Good dear. You will be fully recovered in no time." The nurse said, rising from the chair she had sat down in to watch Sherlock eat. "Get some meat on those bones of yours. You are far too skinny. Look at you! All skin and bones!"

For some reason the plump nurses words angered Sherlock. She look just fine. Sure, she could gain some weight... but who was this woman to tell her so!

Before she was aware of what she was doing, Sherlock grabbed a hand full of potato salad and flung it at the nurse. It landed all across her front.

Sherlock smirked at the nurse and wiped her hand off with a napkin. The nurse ran to the door and open it in a hurry.

"Oi! What happened to you?" Sherlock heard John's voice ask from outside the door.

"Bloody Princess..." Sherlock could just make out the woman's words as she left her room.

"What did you do to her?" John questioned warily from the doorway.

"_She_ was being an annoying idiot. _I_ taught her a lesson." Sherlock stated smoothly. Sherlock gave John a once over and quickly noticed the gift bag he held in his right hand. "What's that John?"

"This is a _gift_. Not sure you deserve it, though." John replied dryly, sitting in the chair next to the hospital bed.

Sherlock simply outstretched her hands for the bag.

John sighed and handed the bag to her.

Sherlock peered into the bag and pulled out a silky navy blue robe.

"My robe..." Sherlock whispered. She had thought that most everything had been destroyed by the bomb.

"It probably won't fit. You are a little smaller now." John smiled at his friends expression.

"I though- How did it survive?" Sherlock rubed her hands over the smooth, familiar fabric.

"There is still more." John said as he pushed the bag closer to the detective. Sherlock pulled out of the bag a purple shirt and at the bottom of the bag a shinning white skull.

"My skull!" Sherlock exclaimed.

John laughed and nodded his head. "Also I bring good news." Sherlock look at her friend with an awed expression on her face. "Mycroft has agreed to let you come back to Baker Street, _as long_ as you promise to eat more." Sherlock made a face at that sentence. "No, listen Sherlock. You can't do this to your body. It is extremely unhealthy, and to be honest, terrifying. Sherlock, you of all people should know the effects not eating has on the human body. This "not eating" thing needs to stop."

John looked at Sherlock with steally eyes.

"John, I don't need-" Sherlock began.

"Nope. Not going to listen to your bloody "The rest is just transport." Ok? You will eat at _least_ one meal a day. At least. You got that?"

Sherlock nodded in a subdued way.

"Good. Then pack your things. We are going home" John stated with a triumphant smile.

**A/N: Next chapter they head back to Baker Street! YAY! I will try to update in the next two weeks. I have finals to study for:P I am hoping to make this one of those fic that has a crazy big number of chapters and is like two years old and still being worked on:) That's my dream...**

**ALSO! I have many fic ideas that I would like to tell someone! (That way I know if they are completely mental...) They will be mine that I would publish, but I am in need of a few consulting idea people;) PM me if you are interested!**

**Ok all I have left to say is...**

**REMEMBER TO REVIEW!**

**Please!**

**Oki Doki Loki, that's it!**

**I love you all!**

**-TheIntrovert**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Two chapters in two days? I must really love you all!**

**-TheIntrovert**

Chapter Six:

Sherlock ran about grabbing different item's from around the room. Finally she was getting out of this prison. Mycrofts lair...

"Sherlock, you can't take the stethoscope." John said sternly.

"Why not?" Sherlock asked in a childish voice.

"No." John stared her down.

"Mycroft is just going to throw everything away any how." She replied stubborn as ever.

"No." John crossed his arm.

"Fine..." She said as she tried to put an assortment of different sized needles into the small suit case John had brought.

"Sherlock! Seriously?" John pulled the needles out of her hand.

"But John! These are very nice needles! Do you know how much they would cost on the black market?" She huffed. "Just a few... please?" Sherlock put on her best hopeful, innocent face. She had quickly learned that John was unable to resist her big blue eyes, when she tried to look sweet.

"Don't think I don't know what you are doing. It's not going to work this time... Nope. Not going to work." John turned his face away from the glazs stare of his friend.

"John! Please?" Sherlock looked at him with big eyes and a slight smile, forcing John to look at her.

"Ugh... Fine. Only four, thought. That's it." John gave in.

Sherlock smirked triumphantly. She looked about the room. There had not been much that was hers. A few cards from Mrs. Hudson and Molly, her scull, her robe, her purple shirt and an assortment of books.

"Let's go." Sherlock said as she turned to the door, pulling the small suit case behind her.

"Um... Sherlock... Are you going to put clothing on?" John asked hesitantly, looking at her hospital gown clad form.

"Why would I? This is a suitable outfit." Sherlock said icely, smoothing the fabric with her free hand.

"Put these on." John handed Sherlock a bundle of clothing.

Sherlock sighed. This was the moment she had been dreading. The clothing John had brought was not especially feminine. Just a simple cotton long sleeved navy shirt, and a pair of black slacks.

It was the undergarments Sherlock was apprehensive of.

"Do I have to?" John raised an eyebrow. "Fine." Sherlock grabbed the clothes items and made her way to the bathroom. Though she hated it she had to play by Mycroft and John's rules, until she was out of this prison. Then she would do what she wanted.

Sherlock shut the bathroom door and leaned her head against it. She drew in a deep breath and rubbed her temples. Turning from the door she disrobed, avoiding looking at herself. She slipped on the panties and bra. They where a basic black. Sherlock almost laughed at the thought of John buying them.

She then pulled the slacks up, buttoned them, and finally pulled the shirt over her head. She had to admit, the clothes John brought where rather comfortable.

"Lets go." Sherlock said as she opened the bathroom door.

"Shoes." John held out a pair of black ballet flats.

"No way in hell." Sherlock walked past John to the door. "Open it." She commanded. John entered the code and held it open for the "Bloody Princess". John handed Sherlock a black jacket, which she slipped on. They walked down several halls, out the front door and climbed in the car Mycroft had prepared for them. Sherlock's bear feet made a slapping sound on the moist sidewalk.

"Sherlock I expect that you keep up your end of the bargain." Mycroft insisted. "Now, this is where I must leave you. I have very important matters to attend to."

"Oh yes, Dear Brother. Go keep the public in the dark about some insufferable political scandal." Sherlock stepped out of the car and looked up at the flat.

Mycroft sighed and motioned John over to him.

"If you need help with Sherlock, don't hesitate to call me." Mycroft whispers so that the younger Holmes could not hear them. "You are in for quite a ride . I do not envy you." Mycroft said with a sad smile on his face. It was very true that John was up for quite a journey.

"Thanks Mycroft." John smiled as the car drove away down the street. "Ready?" John turned to Sherlock, and opened the door when she nodded. "Home, sweet home."

Sherlock surveyed the entrance. It was mostly the same. Non of the scratches Sherlock had made on the floor where there. The walls where a slightly lighter colour. Everything smelled newer and less... homey.

"Sherlock!" Mrs. Hudson cried happily. "Oh, dear, I have missed you so much! Not the same without you!" The old woman wiped a tear from her eye and hugged the consulting detective to herself. "Molly and I went out and got you some clothes! Nothing to flamboyant, I promise." The landlady led them upstairs to their living room. "Mycroft has been so good! He put everything together, you know. This place would be a pile of ash without him."Mrs. Hudson nodded her head.

Sherlock ran her hand over John's chair. Not truly John's chair; just an exact replica. She walked through the kitchen looking in to the fridge. Sadly no body parts where found. Sherlock decided she would be making a trip to Barts soon. Visit Molly. Sherlock had missed the mousy woman.

The flat was mostly the same. Only someone as observant as Sherlock would have been able to pick up the changes.

Though they where subtle, the small things began to get to Sherlock. This wasn't her home. This was a replica. All in all, a fake.

Sherlock felt a pain in her chests and gasped. Her eyes stung and she suddenly felt extremely tired. She grabbed onto the counter for support.

"Sherlock are you alright?" Sherlock had her back to John and Mrs. Hudson.

"Yes. Just very tired. I'll be in my room." Sherlock walked into her room. She shut the door and slid down the wall, until she was sitting on the floor. Tears silently slid down her emotionless face; the only thing giving away how she felt.

Sherlock rose from the ground and climbed into her bed, curling into a ball.

**A/N: Alrighty! Chapter Six! I have a free period, so I am writing in the library;) I will post this when I get home.**

**Might be awhile before you get another chapter...**

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**I love you all!**

**-TheIntrovert**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Ugh. I really should be doing homework right now. **

**But this is more fun...**

**I love you all!**

**-TheIntrovert**

Chapter Seven:

Sherlock awoke around noon the next day, with a throbbing headache. She groaned into her pillow and sat up in the bed.

Everything was essentially the same in the room. The only large differences would be that a full body mirror now hung on the back of the door.

Sherlock glanced down at herself. She was still wearing the navy shirt and slacks from the day before. Getting out of the bed she made her way over to the dresser, slightly apprehensive.

Upon opening the first drawer Sherlock found that it was filled with undergarments. Scowling, she slammed the drawer shut. Opening the next she found many cotton shirts and button downs. The next had pants, Sherlock quickly shut this drawer and opened the next. It was filled with what Sherlock had been looking for. Pajamas.

Sherlock pulled out a pair that where black and silky, similar to some she had previously owned. Pulling off her outer clothing, she put them on and grabbed her robe from the suit case.

She turned to open the door, but stopped when she saw her reflection.

Sherlock supposed she was beautiful. She had never played attention to that sort of thing. Her features where not as sharp as before the Change. Her hair was longer, still had the same dark curls. Her eyes still the odd blue/green/grey. She missed her old self. There where perks to her new body, though. It was much easier to manipulate people now.

She opened her door and wandered out into the living room.

"Good morning." John smiled at his tired looking friend. Sherlock merely grunted in response as she walked over to her couch. She flung herself onto it and landed with a soft thud. "Sleep well?"

"Shut up."

"Um... Kay." John said looking at his flatmate. "We should go to the store today... Get some food for you. What do you like to eat?" John questioned. He had never seen Sherlock show a particular interest in any food item.

"Quiet. I like the quiet." Sherlock growled back.

John looked at his computer and then back over at his flatmate. He had to admit, she was very attractive. Sherlock had always been very good looking, but she was different now. Her thinness, height, and long limbs made her appear like a willow tree. Airy and graceful. The superior way Sherlock always held herself had come with her into this body. Like a Queen, she was regal and beautiful. And so strong for being able to go on with her life after the Change, even when the doctors had found no way to turn her back in to a male.

John shook his head at these thoughts. This was Sherlock! Same old Sherlock. His flatmate.

Deciding that he needed some fresh air, John rose from his chair and made his way to the door. He had no idea how to live with a woman. Sure, he had a sister; but Harry had always been more of a brother then a sister to John.

"I'll be out for a while. Just- I'll be out." John had no idea what he was going to do.

Sherlock glared at John as he made his way out of their flat and down the stairs. She kept glaring till she heard the front door slam.

Sherlock sighed and looked around the flat. She rubbed her head as she sat up.

Aspirin.

That is what Sherlock needed.

Or maybe something stronger...

'No.' Sherlock thought sharply. She could not let her thoughts run wild. She had worked so hard to get out of those things. One slip up and she would have to start all over.

"MRS. HUDSON!" Sherlock yelled at the top of her lungs. She flinched at the volume of her own voice.

The old woman let out a yelp form downstairs and ran up in to 221b.

"Oh dear! What's wrong?" Mrs. Hudson quickly look around the room for any threats. "What do you need Sherlock?" The old lady sighed, when she found no assassin or the like trying to harm the detective.

"Aspirin."

"I'm not your maid." The landlady said as she fetched the pain killer and a large glass of water. "Here you go dear. I'll just be downstairs." Mrs. Hudson handed Sherlock a glass of water and two piles. She patted Sherlock's hand as she made her way to the door.

"No. Stay with me. If you want." Sherlock said in a bored tone. In truth she desperately wanted the old woman to stay with her. She was incredibly bored and lonely.

"Alright. I'll just watch some telly." Mrs. Hudson began to make her way over to one of the chairs to sit in when Sherlock patted the space on the couch next to her. Smiling, Mrs. Hudson sat down next to Sherlock. The landlady began flipping through the channels and settled on a sappy romance movie.

Mrs. Hudson and Sherlock watched to the end of the movie. Sherlock had spent the whole time telling Mrs. Hudson how idiotic it was the a prince would fall in love with a farm maid. They then proceeded to watch the next one, which was about a musician who falls in love with a deaf woman.

Twenty minutes later, and John walked into the room, carrying Chinese take out, to find quite a sight.

Sherlock lay asleep on the couch with her head in the landlady's lap. Mrs. Hudson had a stranded of Sherlock's hair in her hands, which she was braiding.

"Um... wow." John said, eyes wide. It was incredible to see Sherlock looking so innocent, and very surprising that she allowed such a form of affection.

"Poor dear has a horrid headache." Mrs. Hudson ran her fingers through the consulting detectives curls.

**A/N: I watched four episodes of Doctor Who today. I have finals coming up... and I watched Doctor Who for four hours... X)**

**Yep. I'm just that much of a rebel! **

**A special thanks goes out to RainyDays-and-DayDreams! You have been such a huge help with this story! People! Go read her stuff! She is a brilliant writer! Like, tears! Running down my face! (That was a lie. I don't really cry... But it was so feelsy!) Go read and review her fics!**

**I will not update until next week.**

**Sorry!**

**Remember to REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW... Please...**

**I love you all!**

**-TheIntrovert**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: *meekly looks at reader* I am so sorry it took so long... so sorry... **

**I ****_still _****love you all,**

**-TheIntrovert**

Chapter Eight:

Sherlock sat up on the couch and looked around herself.

Mrs. Hudson had left the snoozing detective long ago. She had a party to attended that her friend was hosting.

"Good morning, again." John was sitting in his chair, reading the paper. "Have you eaten anything today?"

"Yes." Sherlock was still waking up, so her lie was not very convincing.

"Oh, really? What then?" John look at his flatmate with a challenging expression.

Sherlock sighed and rubbed her face with her hands harshly. "Mrs. Hudson gave me an Aspirin." John opened his mouth to protest that a pile was not a suitable form of nourishment, when Sherlock interrupted. "Where is she?" She looked around herself for signs of the old woman.

"She left about half an hour ago, she had a-"

"What time is it?!" Sherlock jumped off the couch. She had wanted to get to Bart's before it closed.

"Five'ish." John checked his watch. "Why? Did you have plans?" John asked with a confused expression on his face. Sherlock never had plans.

"Molly." Was the only answer John received.

"Sherlock. You need to eat. Remember our agreement?" John had used his military voice when addressing the scowling Sherlock.

"No, I don't."

"You don't what? Remember or need to eat?" John had a shrewish expression on his face.

Sherlock 'ughed' audibly.

"_Fine_." She growled out between her teeth. She sat down at the kitchen table and looked at John expectantly.

The doctor sighed as he rose from his chair and walked it to the room. He grabbed a plate, put some Chinese food on it, and popped it in the microwave.

"You Highness." He set the meal in front of his friend.

Sherlock shoveled a fork full in to her mouth. She was eager to get to the mortuary and see Molly. It was not long till she had eaten nearly half the contents of the plate. It was extremely greasy. She glared hauntingly at John, who responded with a bright smile.

"Are you _content_ with what I have eaten, Dr. Watson?" Her eyes where as cold as ice.

"Not quite. One more bite, please." John enjoyed his friends angry stare. Sherlock compiled. "Great job. Now I will see you tomorrow." John realised that he needed to leave now if he was going to make it to work.

"Where are you going?" Sherlock asked in a panicky voice. She didn't think John would be leaving her so soon. And to be honest with herself Sherlock found the idea of being alone down right terrifying.

"Oh, right. I got a job. In fact I need to leave for it right now, if I don't want to be late." John said in a please, and somewhat smug, voice. "I don't usually work nights, but I was asked to cover for a college." Sherlock frowned at the army doctor.

"Alright, I will go with you." She was sure she could be of some help if she where to go with John. After all, every doctor she had ever encountered was a complete idiot. Surely they would appreciate some one with some intellect.

"Well, um... I don't think you would enjoy it... See, I work at a children's hospital now." John honestly didn't like the idea of his friend being around children. He could only imagine the trouble Sherlock would get into at the hospital.

"Why wouldn't I enjoy it?" Sherlock could not see a reason for herself not to go.

"There will be children. Loads of children." John's eyebrows almost made his eyes disappear, the way he was strucking up his face.

"I fail to see how that is a valid reason for me not to _enjoy_ the hospital." Sherlock crossed her arms over her chest and raised her chin defiantly.

"You don't like kids."

"Who said I don't like children?" Sherlock's voice was extremely exasperated and had taken a sharp edge.

"Well, no one; but, I can't see you as the kid type." John stated meekly. He truly could no imagine his harsh, inpatient, genius flatmate being able to tolerate a runny nosed four year old.

"John I am going with you. That's that. Just let me put some clothes on." Sherlock gracefully rose from the table and made her way to her room.

John sigh softly and placed the plate in the sink.

This was going to be a long night.

**A/N: I am so so so so so sorry for such the long wait! I promise I didn't give up on this story! My muse simply refused to help me write the last few weeks! They are incredibly flighty creatures.**

**Also! Check out my new story _Anything But Empty! _Please! It's right on my profile; I just need to know what you all think of it!**

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**I am so sorry for not writing. I really am. And I can't tell you the next time I will update... :( I know it will be before the end of the year. Most defiantly.**

**Alright, that's it.**

**Thank you for reading! **

**I love you all! **

**-TheIntrovert**


	9. AN: Please Read

**A/N: Well, I have horrid news. **

**I will not be able to update on this story for I don't how long.**

**I am truly sorry.**

**I will miss you all so much.**

**But, please don't lose faith in this story. **

**I promise that I will be back.**

**Hopefully soon.**

**I love you all so much,**

**TheIntrovert **


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